Jordan
"SO HOW DO I FIX THIS?" Grady points to the section of the song he's composing that isn't working.
I could have told him fifteen minutes ago how to fix it, but I was waiting for this question. My opportunity.
"I'll tell you how to fix it if you tell me more about your assistant."
Grady's face clouds over. Actually it's more like a brick wall that takes over.
"No way." Grady shakes his head. "Leave her alone, Jordan. She's a good girl."
"What do you think I'm going to do to her?"
Though several ideas have been percolating in my head since I met Dallas last night. Grady looks at me over the eyeglasses he only wears when he's composing. A look that says he knows exactly what I usually do with girls who look like his assistant.
"Okay, so maybe I have a bit of a track record."
"A bit? It's not so much a track record as the Trail of Tears, and I don't want Dallas to be one of your stops."
"I can tell she's ... different, or I wouldn't be asking you about her."
"Oh? What's so different about her, Jordan?"
The way she was off on the other side of the room while all the other girls smothered me. The way she blushed when we busted her talking about some guy asking her to suck his dick. The way her Southern accent was thick and sweet like molasses. That look on her face when she heard me play. I'd sound like a real pussy if I said any of that, so I just shrug and doodle on Grady's composition pad.
"Well, the things you've told me, and she just seemed nice."
"She is, and I want her to stay that way, so hands off."
"I doubt we'll be running into each other anytime soon anyway, right?" I look up, half hoping he'll contradict me, but he gives me a satisfied grin.
"That's right." He pushes his glasses up on his nose and circles the problematic set of measures in the middle of the piece. "Now, if I could—"
His ring tone interrupts, and he glances at the screen, his face softening with a smile.
"Is it your girlfriend, Grady?" I've been teasing him mercilessly only because in the time I've known him, which is my whole life, Grady has never been this way about a woman.
He rolls his eyes and grunts before heading for the door.
"I'll be right back," he says over his shoulder. "Just give me a minute."
His "Hey, Em" reaches me from the narrow hall he's stepped into just beyond the music room. I can't help the goofy grin on my face. If anyone deserves to be happy, it's Grady. He's sacrificed a lot for me. When I emancipated from my parents at sixteen, he was the one wading through a messy, the-whole-world-watching court battle with me. He was the one who took me in. The least I can do is help him with this piece that I could write in my sleep.
And keep my hands off his assistant.
From my experience, there are several categories of pussy. There's groupie pussy. Those girls who just want to be able to say they slept with someone famous. Love that. We both get exactly what we expect, and we're done. Then there's the L.A. girls. My best friend Marlon calls it "thirsty pussy." Tit-for-tat pussy, emphasis on the tit. These ambitious girls who want to be a star and see me as their fast track. It's a transaction, and after we're done, they think I owe them something. A spot on the next album. An introduction to the hottest producer. A cameo in a video. Strings attached. I don't do strings.
YOU ARE READING
Beautiful Chaos/A Jordan Knight FanFic/ Book One in the Beautiful series. ✔️
Fiksi Penggemar(Completed) It seems the things worth keeping are often the hardest to hold... Dallas I had two things in life that mattered. My mother and my music. Mama was taken from me too soon, and now music is all I have left. It's the thing that's pushed me...
